The sun takes its time setting behind the mountains, taking the heat of the day with it. Just minutes ago, camp was set up. The donkeys drink from a watering hole. Finally, the nomads can pause and rest. They deserve it.

They are eager to take their shoes off, stretching their feet and wiggling their toes. The cool earth soothes the tired feet of these men. They gather, each sitting on his own towel. They have been waiting for this moment all day. While others prepare food at the campsite, they exchanges stories. Muhammad, everyones senior, stands before them, speaking.

Tonight, he reminisces to his youth, sharing a story. The younger men, listen intently. The older men, having heard the story, absorb the scenery.

"Today reminds me of a day in my childhood, when I was on a journey like this with my father. The sunset was beautiful, as it is tonight, but that day was not as relaxed as today. In the midday heat, as we trekked through the desert, the sun was baking our bodies. The donkeys were stubborn and quickly growing weak. We should have listened to the earth, and sought shelter for the day, but that is not what we did. Pushing on, the heat grew worse, and the winds picked up. A sandstorm was brewing."

All the young men are staring at Muhammad, forgetting to blink.

"We were caught in the middle of the storm, and helpless to escape it. We could not see where we were going. My instant reaction was to cover my face from the sand. The men were frantically searching for cover, eventually finding a lone tree. Digging into the barren earth, they created enough room to protect the group. The storm seemed to rage on for hours, but in reality, it was minutes. Afterwards, we gathered ourselves, only to realize that we had lost our donkeys. A search found the donkeys, but unfortunately, it was too late. They did not survive the storm. Each able bodied man grabbed supplies, and we had to complete that days journey carrying everything. Now I tell you this story for two reason, and I suggest you learn from our misfortune. Listen to the earth, my brothers. She will tell you all that you need to know during your journey. The earth is a mystery, but she leaves you hints. Find them, and read these hints. Lastly, recognize that you may only bring what is essential to your life, and nothing more. We seldom realize the excess that we bring, until we must carry our possessions ourselves."

We have a million reasons why, in this nation with so much wealth, children go to bed hungry. We have lots of reasons why the United States has the highest first-day infant death rate out of all the industrialized countries in the world. We have so many reasons our elderly have to choose between food and medicine, and reasons why real people die because they can't afford healthcare.. and why we can afford war after war and our military is asked to go fight again and again and again...and then brought home to no jobs and no mental health care...we have a million reasons why the United States places 17th in the developed world for education And literacy has gone out the window and our crime rate is soaring. ..Why are there so many homeless when affordable housing is considered a human right?

Where is the hand up we always talk about in this country? When did we start blaming the less fortunate for being less fortunate? Has it always been about greed and I've Got Mine? Is it still true that a man or woman can work hard...just give it their all, and expect the American Dream? Do we really still believe in liberty and justice for all...do we believe it is every humans right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness...or are these things just for some? And the land of the free and home of the brave?.....are we truly free to pursue happiness, and if we are brave, why are we so afraid?

It was 1968 when my boyfriend and I moved from San Diego, CA. to Houston, Texas. The Vietnam war was at ti's deadliest, Dr. King had just been assassinated, Bobby Kennedy murdered, gone...there was a presidential election looming. Segregationist George Wallace was a leading candidate. There were riots and protests everywhere....for a black man, or a hippie, Houston was not the most welcoming place...but we, my boyfriend and me, were young, dumb, and sort of brave white kids on a mission to make a difference.

There were flyers up all over the city of a generic hippie couple with the words Wanted Dead or Alive...I watched the Democratic convention in Chicago on TV and felt fear and disbelief...they were beating people who looked just like me.

....Black men were being shot at an alarming rate by the Houston Police and by the Texas Rangers...these men were accused of trying to run, but there would be powder burns on their backs.....there was a lot of fear that because of what happened to Dr. King there would be riots like the one in Watts in 1965. City leaders were trying to keep a lid on things...the city sort of vibrated with tension. And so many sirens all the time...

I got a job as a cocktail waitress a few nights a week......I only had to be 18 to work at a club. I didn't serve alcohol, everyone brought their own and I would bring them ''set ups''.

The job was mostly easy and my days were free. I decided I wanted to help register black voters and I was able to find a connection to make it possible. I had a meeting with a minister from a black church...he interviewed me and made a point of letting me know that he couldn't promise that everything would be ok...that I would be ok...My duties would be help people fill out the forms correctly. I took the ''job'' and three mornings a week my boyfriend would drive me to Ward 4 or 6, I don't remember which now. We would arrive in our tiny car which was painted with big red, blue, yellow and pink flowers, and looked like a dozen clowns should pile out when the doors opened.....so conspicuous we were....and he'd leave me there...It was a sort of secret place, the little house...the summer too hot with emotion, too dangerous to put out a sign saying REGISTER HERE!!! .....There were no lines...people would sort slip in and out all day...in small groups or alone.... and we'd do the paper work.... tension was high...we registered a lot of first time voters of all ages in those few weeks.

That summer I also volunteered for Operation Bread Basket. I volunteered to spend time with a child from one of the Wards a few times a week.....My child, and little friend was Oshee...she was four years old and black as the night. She lived with her mother and 5 brothers and sisters in 3 rooms...she had never played in a bubble bath or eaten an egg. She'd never swam in a swimming pool either and when I let her swim at our apartment complex the other renters called management...no black kids allowed.....I was more than a little stunned....our neighbors seemed like nice people. I wondered then, and still do, what they feared from a 4 year old?

One sunny afternoon Oshee and I decided to walk to the store about 3 blocks away. I'd walked it many time, but this time it was different. In a matter of minutes white men in pickup trucks where calling me a nigger lover...whore, slut...screaming these words at us as they drove by...let me tell you, this hippie girl started shaking in her sandals.....I don't think Oshee had any clue what the words meant that were being hurled at us but she felt my fear, and she could feel their hate......and she held my hand a little tighter, and we both walked a little faster...I didn't know rather to turn around and go back, or be brave and move forward. We went forward, I had promised her a coloring book and crayons.....but I was afraid...really afraid....We never took a walk together again...sigh...I had never felt such intense hatred projected onto me......but I imagine she had.

I often wonder if my time with her was good or not, what impact it had, if any......I wonder with racism still alive and well in this country if she was able to leave that Ward and never look back...I wonder if she has a good life...I wonder if she votes.

I heard a blip on youtube from some Fox commentators the other day. They were talking, and laughing, about the 102 year old woman who had to stand in line for hours to vote in our last national election. They joked...and they wondered out loud what the big deal was?...they asked what else a 102 year old woman had to do besides wait? And I wondered when voter suppression will end in this land of the free and equal....

she said she had friends coming up to hike along the river and I could join them...

I'm not good at small talk...not at all.

So when I found myself alone with the friend,

of a friend, the silence wasn't the comfortable kind.

After about 5 min. with no words passing between us since we'd already covered

the mandatory discussion about the mess the world seems to be in...

I put down the stick I was so busily removing the bark from and looked in his eye and smiled.

He looked in my eyes and blurted out that he was in CA. to clean out his son's apartment.

That his son had taken his own life.

No small talk here. The ground shifted a little beneath me,

I looked into this man's eyes while he talked about his loss....

his struggle to take in the fact that his beautiful young son didn't want to live in this world.

He showed me a photo.

His son who wanted to be a sports doctor smiled out at us.

He expressed his deep grief that his son had not talked to him,

how maybe if he had something could have been done to stop him.

He spoke of his guilt at not knowing that his son was in such deep pain.

My eyes never left his.

I talked about my mothers death

and how she sometimes comes to me in dreams

and how I can often smell her perfume.

I talked about the twins and how they were only here on this plane for a month

but had had such a big impact on all of us who knew them,

loved them.

He wondered how he would ever fill the space his son had left..

how he didn't feel that emptiness yet,

but knew it was coming,

and he feared it would break his heart.

We talked about this world we live in,

this journey, how it might all be an illusion but how the feelings are very real.

We talked about how to disconnect, unplug from the dream.

We talked about Oneness.

Connection.

And when it was time to say good bye we hugged and he whispered,

''thank you for being so present...''

and I thanked him for being such a gift.

We had been two strangers who connected.

We had seen each other.

I looked in his eyes a last time and remembered something

I read long ago about how if we truly, truly, look into another's eyes

we can't help but see their soul, and experience unconditional love.

When we parted my heart felt bigger, softer,

even though the topic was death,

I felt a deep joy at being given the opportunity to listen deeply

to a fellow traveler, and have him listen deeply to me..

Soul friendship is a way of kindness, of mercy, of mutual vulnerability. A soul friendship is marked by a kind of deeply respectful intimacy and familiarity that our society has all but forgotten....unknown

It took me a couple of days before I allowed myself to feel the horror of what happened there. And then I cried. Not just for the children of that little American town and those who loved them. Those poor families...the empty space in their heart. I slipped into crying for all the children who go to bed at night with fear in their hearts

because of war,

or because they live in violence,

the sound of guns ALL the time.

Bombs even, drones.....children are called collateral damage in other countries.

Or ''gang related'' deaths here in the USA.

Or they become victims of domestic violence.

Child abuse.

Or suicide...suicide is rampant among our children.

I was listening to two teenage boys talk about Sandy Hook...

about the guns,

they said they had friends who think war is fun,

and can't wait to join one.

To my surprise they brought up the violence of video games...

they even see it.

Do you think we might be desensitizing our children to violence?

We pay a great deal to have

violence brought into our homes via, games, movies, music and tv...

If violence is part of our entertainment

why are we so stunned

when it comes to one of our own neighborhoods in a very real way.

There are many mentally ill out there, add guns, fear, hate and disconnect and...

well, is it really surprising that we need to turn our schools

into armed encampments?Is it true? We reap what we sow..

When are we really going to demand a more caring society?And I ask myself this.

When are we going to create a society that honors our children by truly working to come together in peace?

When will we stop the US and THEM?

This is the season of love and magic yet there is so much fear and sorrow, why?

I don't have the answers.

We, the ''greatest'' nation,

need to take a look at what we perpetuate here,

and all over the world.

Look at how we are seen...are we truly the Ugly Americans?

We rain bombs down on children every day..

Turn our backs on starvation, here and ''over there''.

It feels like a real shift in our perspective

about what is important is desperately needed...and

more love...

more reaching out...

more awareness...

more listening deeply to each other...

more working for change..more action..

more hugs..

I think we need BIG changes...we say we want to protect the children...

but we are doing a terrible, terrible, job.

Children all over the world are dying and aren't they all our children?

Does this resonate...?

“A new consciousness and a totally new morality are necessary to bring about a radical change in the present culture and social structure. This is obvious, yet the Left and the Right and the revolutionary seem to disregard it. Any dogma, any formula, any ideology is part of the old consciousness; they are the fabrications of thought whose activity is fragmentation - the Left, the Right, the centre. This activity will inevitably lead to bloodshed of the Right or of the Left or to totalitarianism. This is what is going on around us. One sees the necessity of social, economic, and moral change but the response is from the old consciousness, thought being the principal actor. The mess, the confusion, and the misery that human beings have got into are within the area of the old consciousness, and without changing that profoundly,every human activity- political, economic or religious- will only bring us to the destruction of each other and of the earth.”

copyrights....

You can't copy anybody and end up with anything. If you copy, it means you're working without any real feeling....Billie Holidayfrom The 12 Secrets of Highly Creative Women...a portable mentor.....

A prayer....

May my feet rest firmly on the groundMay my head touch the skyMay I see clearlyMay I have the capacity to listenMay I be free to touchMay my words be trueMay my heart and mind be openMay my hands be empty to fill the needMay my arms be open to othersMay my gifts be reveled to meSo I may return that which has been givenCompleting the great circle.~the therma collective

me

I'm a mixed media fiber artists...A lifetime ago I attended a Goddess Doll Workshop given by jasa Johnson..the experience changed my life. It is there thatI met my muse...the Goddess Nu Kua. Her myth is that she created the world but was all alone with the beauty of it. So she created human spirits to keep her company and share in the magic. In my life she has provided me with endless inspiration to create the divine feminine in the form of what I call Spirit Figures..When she came into my life everything about my journey changed...
The Spirit Figures I create with her guidance feel as though they have more than just form...they have spirit. They have found homes all over the world...what a gift for me...xo

In the works....

Dear Julie! The pleasure was definitely all mine!!! I love what we created and the time spent with the nice women and YOU!!! I named my doll "Avia". She is proudly hanging with all of yours in my living room. I thought you would like to know that I have started 3 more. I have "Mother Nature" ready to get a body, a cat (who's head is a bit large and heavy?? ack! and a small face, yet to be determined. I bought decorative pieces and fabrics based on "feeling" as I shop along. I feel as if you have opened a whole new world to me, and for that I thank and bless you, my friend! I am amazed at my own ability to restrain myself and not feel "rushed" to completion on these soft sculptures. I like to let them make their own "evolution" of sorts. I usually feel a sense of urgency to get things done quickly, to see it done, but not with these. Thank you for your generosity of spirit and love. I love you and your beautiful soul. Hugs, Lisa

Hi Julie,

Well no wonder I was drawn to it - I've been calling Celtic energy to myself for several years now! :-)

I loved the workshop, being surrounded by women's energy, tapping into creative energy, and just giving myself a day to be free. And, I love my doll! She has an honored place in my home.

Thank you so much for sharing your creative inspiration with us!

Peace and blessings, Alcia

I loved the "entire" day. Good play, good times, good food, great company! My "goddess" is wonderful. It's amazing how everyone created their own "person" - THANK YOU!!!

My friends Ellen, Laurel and Alisha also had a great day. Can't wait for your mask workshop!!

Karin

Even if you are on the right track, you will get run over if you just sit there.Will Rogers

Buddha said, "What you are is what you have been, what you will be is what you do now." Padmasambhava said, "If you want to know your past life, look into your present condition; if you want to know your future life, look at your present actions." ....from the Tibetan Book of Living and Dying